


escape

by greedlings



Series: badthingshappenbingo [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Emetophobia, Eye Gouging, Eye Trauma, Gore, I cannot stress this enough, Major Character Injury, graphic depictions of injury, just in case, lots of blood, minor Melanie King/Georgie Barker, these are so disjointed i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22875196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedlings/pseuds/greedlings
Summary: melanie was willing to do anything to get out of the institute. if this was the only wat out, then she'd gladly take her eyes.
Series: badthingshappenbingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643200
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	escape

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED TAGGING SOMETHING!
> 
> (the rating is only t+ bc i thought anything above would imply sex etc. but please let me know if i should raise it and what to!!)
> 
> fic three of my badthingshappenbingo!! this one was all me haha.
> 
> if you'd like to request a fic for this series, you can find my bingo card at @/greedlings_ on twitter (it's my pinned tweet!)
> 
> oh, and the beginning of this fic was inspired by this wonderful comic by @/stc019-eh on tumblr (https://stc019-eh.tumblr.com/post/187965237993/i-thought-about-what-you-had-said-about-love-i/amp)!! i really liked the idea of melanie talking to georgie before it all, so i hope that it's okay that i used it for this fic :V and PLEASE consider giving it a reblog, especially if you enjoy this fic!

“I don’t want to forget how beautiful your smile is.”

Georgie’s eyebrows furrowed, her mouth turning downwards suddenly in concern, “Melanie, what do you mean?”

Melanie shook her head. “You’ll see soon enough. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“But-”

“I’m sorry, but I have something I need to do. I love you, Georgie.”

“I-I love you too.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Melanie hung up. She brought the phone to her chest, almost as if hugging the screen. She found herself shutting her eyes tight; typically that meant she’d be holding back tears, but her eyes were dry. She knew what she had to do, and she wasn’t going to let anything get in her way.

She had to hurry, though, considering Jon should have called the ambulance by now. Quickly, she moved her arm to the table beside her, placing her phone beside the awl she had snagged from the library.

Her hand hovered above the awl for a moment. There was hesitation in her movements, a hesitation that she knew  _ damn well _ wasn’t regarding the thought of quitting her job. The means were  _ absurd, _ though, and if she hadn’t wanted out of the damned institute more than anything else in the world she would have  _ never _ considered doing what she was about to do. But if she had to gouge her eyes to quit, to get  _ out  _ of this place ruled by fear and manipulation and the paranormal, so be it.

But the ambulance would be here soon. She couldn’t afford to hesitate any longer.

She wrapped her hands around the handle of the awl, its smoothly polished surface feeling uncomfortably slippery in Melanie’s clammy palm. Melanie had to force her arm upwards, had to force her hand to angle the pointed tip of the awl towards her open eye. 

Staring down the awl was the worst part yet; the thin metal shaft caught the light from the dull fluorescent bulbs above, and if Melanie was slightly less sane, she might have said that that stupid awl seemed to be  _ anticipating _ gouging into her eye. 

It wasn’t, though. It was just a trick of the light playing along the polished surface of the awl, or maybe the remnants of the slaughter’s influence on Melanie’s mind. But either way, Melanie wouldn’t let her head stop her from quitting. Not when she’s already gone this far.

So, in one swift motion, she thrust the awl into her right eye.

She let out a sharp whimper, refusing to cry as her vision turned a brilliant and, ironically, blinding white before fading, leaving only one half of the room barely visible through the sudden tears that welled up in her unharmed eye. White hot pain shot through not only Melanie’s right eye but her entire body, and she couldn’t stop the twitchy shudder that ran through her limbs. The sudden motion in her hands moved the awl, and Melanie had to fight the bile that rose in her throat as she felt the pointed end of the awl scrape against the inside of her eye. Her senses were all but gone now, dulled--or, perhaps, simply completely overwhelmed--by the rippling pain that shot through her nerves like bullets.

Melanie thought that getting stabbed with ghostly scalpels and shot by angry ghosts had been bad, but she knew now that that pain, that those scars, were  _ nothing _ compared to this.

But it wasn’t enough yet. Melanie  _ had _ to be sure.

Slowly, Melanie forced the awl further through her eye, as far as she felt it safe to go--she didn’t want to  _ kill _ herself, only seriously maim, and she knew damn well that one wrong move would send the awl straight into her brain. So, with slow and deliberate motions, Melanie moved the awl back and forth as it ran her eye through, hoping to damage as much of the eye as possible. 

Left. 

Right. 

Left. 

Right.

Left.

Right. 

The pain was caught in her throat now, and it was so,  _ so _ hard to breathe. Every breath Melanie managed to take was shaky and soft, as if breathing any heavier would make the pain worse. And yet she knew that she had to breathe, lest she let pressure build up behind her eyes and increase the already sickening pain.

Her right eye had to be good enough at this point, though, half because Melanie wasn’t sure if she could go any further into her eye, or do any damage that, at this point, would simply be overkill, and half because distant sounds of sirens approaching the institute echoed through the lonely streets of London, and she still had another eye to mutilate.

Melanie took a breath, steeling herself, before pulling the awl out in one swift but still careful motion. She was surprised, though, to find that pulling the shaft of the awl out of her eye caused little pain.

What she was surprised about was the blood; she couldn’t see much through her one eye, especially through the pain and the tears, but Melanie could still see the blood that oozed from her face and onto the floor at her feet. She had been expecting blood, but it fell from her eye like water from a tap. Now that they were sharpening again, Melanie’s senses were filled with the blood that seeped from her eye; it was on her lips and in her nose, and she could even hear the gentle but steady  _ drip, drip, drip _ as it hit the floor. The copper-tinged smell filled the entire room, and Melanie was sure that if there wasn’t already blood in her mouth, the metallic taste would find her tongue from the lingering scent alone.

_ At least I was smart enough to avoid wearing white today _ , Melanie thought as she gazed at the steadily growing pool of red at her feet. She was surprised at the chuckle that escaped her lips as she watched it drip off of her face, sending small ripples through the crimson puddle.

But she had a job to finish; sooner rather than later, especially since the sirens now seemed to be less of an echo and more of a steadily growing wail.

There was less hesitation in the motion that plunged the awl into Melanie’s left eye, and before long the world around Melanie faded from that same sickening brightness into a deep shade of black. Still, she persisted, her hatred of her cursed job--or, at this point, ex-job--far surpassed her fear of the dark. 

She repeated what she had done to her right eye to her left. As the initial pain of contact seemed to fade, the pain retreated into a throbbing pain, allowing Melanie’s senses--or,  _ most  _ of Melanie’s senses--experience the second mutilation. As she moved the awl side to side over and over again, that awful repetitive motion filled the air with the faintest sound that seemed the mixture of the wet sloshing of water and the grisly tearing of flesh. The copper lingered on her tongue, dry and bitter; it filled every crevice and ridge of her mouth, and even left the feeling of metal down Melanie’s throat. 

Finally, as the sirens, now loudly whining and very close, reached a halt, Melanie pulled the awl from her eye. She fumbled for a moment, trying to place the awl on the table and find her phone.

It was in that moment that Melanie noticed something; for the first time in so, so long, that awful, ever-present feeling of being watched, of being picked apart action by action, thought by thought by the awful gaze of the ceaseless watcher was finally gone. She let her shoulders relax. Melanie could tell now that she was crying, heavy sobs forcing their way out of the metallic dryness of her throat and into that awful empty room. The tears that fell were indistinguishable from the blood that now dripped down her cheeks, but she couldn’t care less in that moment.

She was finally free.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated <3<3
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @/greecllings and on twitter @/greedlings_ !!


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